Archive of Our Own ^beta

“OK. OK. I can do this.” Joshua Tanner stands in front of his mirror. It’s his first day on the job. 

Jobs.  

He glances down at the paperwork on the counter - Welcome to Halcyon City Crime Scene Investigation Bureau and HERO ACT Official Registration Card JUMPSTART.

“OK. OK. I got this.” 

He soaps up, ready to shave his barely-there beard - butt-fluff, Elena calls it - but he doesn’t feel the way he thought he would about to start his first grown up job. He feels like a kid playing dress-up. 

So, he’s faking it till he makes it.

“Aw you look like you’re about to start junior high!” snorts Elena, coming up behind him.

He jumps and the blade slices deeper than he thought it could and more blood than there should be is dripping into the water, expanding and twisting like a living thing. 

DNA. There’ll be minute droplets all over his sink and his mirror and it will tell you his height and his proximity and what vein was hit. His blood tox screen will tell you he has elevated levels of adrenaline and cortisol and he was alive when the incision was made. 

It won’t tell you that he’s in love with the woman behind him, that he’s 23 years old and starting a new job.

It will tell you that he’s a Parahuman, carrying the genetic markers that relate to speed. Enhanced short twitch musculature, high weight to power ratio.

His blood won’t tell you he’s an earnest, good hearted young man who wants to help people with all his skills and he’s just signed up as a Hero in the Protectors League.

It won’t tell you anything that matters.

It’s Elena who grabs a towel from the stand and presses the white cotton hard to his jaw, laughing and apologizing, muttering nonsense about stitches, practical and professional as her mother was the day she taught him to shave. 

“Oh my God, Josh, can’t take you anywhere. You’re gonna get yourself killed on your first day when the killer jumps out the closet,” she giggles. “Stand still, I got this.”

Because of course Martha taught her daughter how to shave a man. You never know when you’ll need any and all of the skills of a woman who’s had to be both mother and father to her own child and the raggamuffin with the deadbeat mom who Elena befriended.

Josh stands still while she patches him up and shaves him at the same time, trying not to meet her eyes. “I’ll never see the damn crime scene if you get me first.”

“How you supposed to solve the crimes and catch the bad guys if you jump at rats farting?” 

“I got more than enough knowledge to hide your body, East. They’ll never find it.” He checks the bleeding. It hasn’t stopped yet.

“My Mom’ll solve it, Dexter.”

“Your Mom’s gonna end up like Doakes.”

“Will she meet Jimmy Smits? She’s been carrying a torch for him since she was a teenager.” She pulls the towel away again. “There you go, all done. Blood’s stopped.”

Josh checks and there’s only a thin red line that fades even as he’s looking at it. 

“Right, I gotta blaze, so break a leg, Speedy and remember your bestie needs exclusives.” She punches him lightly in the side, dodging him feinting a grab for her hair. “My weave, asshole!”

“Stop beating me up, before I tell your Mom!”

The door’s a full stop to her laughter and Josh turns back to the mirror. 

He don’t got this.

Oh, Josh so don’t got this.

***

“So, you’re a Hero? Signed up to this fucking act?” his new supervisor looks at his paperwork. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he says, shifting on his feet. She’s got him standing in front of her desk. Great, his new boss, Espinoza is one of those . “They told me I was one of the youngest in the Protector’s Lea-”

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re a fucking fetus, we’re getting one thing straight,” she snaps. “I will not have you put your costume party trick ahead of this lab. We deal with criminal evidence here and I cannot have you put that evidence’s integrity at risk. Are you hearing me, Tanner?”

“It won’t interfere, Ma’am -”

“Damn fucking straight it won’t! I’m not having you fuck up a capital case because you were rescuing a fucking Yorkie from an eagle!”

“I can’t fly, Ma’am, I’m a speedster.”

“I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE A FUCKING NASCAR, TANNER! SAVE KITTENS WHEN YOU’RE OFF THE CLOCK!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

***

Josh is tired when he gets off and his hand’s cramping with all the signing for things he’s been doing. His new workmates take him for a drink, and for all her faults, first round’s on Espinoza. He texts Elena and Martha, but they text back to take his time, they’ll have his celebration dinner when he gets in. 

He’s not drinking - he’s too conscious that he might get called in to deal with some of the ping Supervillains that threaten Hal - oh.

He’s up.

Oh, he still don’t got this.

***

It’s a warzone. 

ISAACK drones are all over a parking garage.

Not in one piece, certainly, but they’re all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling and they’re even in the walls. There’s probably some in the ceiling, but he’s not looked yet.

Bast is furious. “Fucking Vigil. See, this why we have the fucking HERO Act in the first place. How many people could have been hurt with this shit?!”

Jumpstart looks around the carnage. 

“They get everywhere. How are we supposed to track incidents if they’re causing havoc?” Jumpstart turns at the French accent, glad his mask’s hiding his face, because it’s fucking burning at those rolled Rs and slurred THs. It’s the eyes, though, that really get him regretting wearing a skin tight suit and not the jeans, boots and hoodie this  - he surely can’t be a Hero? Not in this? 

“Je suis…Je me excusee…my name is Faraday. I got here not long before you did, finished off the last few drones,” he says, and he’s not wearing a mask, so his clean-shaven, scarred  - he wants to lick them, FUCK - face is clear for all to see. Tanned skin’s a contrast to those eyes, light grey, it’s got to be contacts. 

Jumpstart can’t look away. He’s seen Faraday on the news before and he’s even more….more…French? Christ, why can’t he word anymore?

“Registered?” Asks Bast.

“Of course, why would I be so obvious if I were not registered?” He says it like he’s explaining to a particularly slow five year old. God , those Rs. They roll like a wave in the harbour.

Bast scowls. “I don’t know every Hero yet. Especially with the bullshit Vigil cause. We’ll get them soon enough.”

Faraday catches Jumpstart looking at him. “Jumpstart, why don’t you tell me what you think about this over here? You’re a CSI aren’t you?”

He’s drowning in those eyes. “What? Yeah, forensic guy, but I don’t have my kit with me.”

“Then you’ll still notice what I don't.” Faraday turns on his heels. He walks at a sharp clip, like he means business. He’s expecting Jumpstart to follow him. His whole demeanor screams military. Wouldn’t they be using Super soldiers on the battlefield? “11 years in the French Military. If you don’t count the military academy I attended. Almost 20 if you do.”

It’s taking Jumpstart all his attention to focus on the information past the accent - Fronch Militarrreeee -  and fuck, why is this suit so tight? - “W-What? “

Oh God, please don’t be thinking out loud.

“You think I lived this long by not paying attention? In my job, you don’t pay attention, you have dead soldiers and live bastards.” Faraday reminds him of the SAS and Seals that he’s seen on TV, Special Forces, Force Speciale? Brusque, no bullshit, built to survive…

The Frenchman is still talking, but Jumpstart is too lost in his thoughts to pay atten-  

“- tion!” Faraday drops to the French word. “You’ve joined us. I was asking about the HERO Act. What would the Protectors League have done that would have been any different to Vigil?”

Jumpstart comes back to himself -  get a grip and concentrate, Tanner!  -  considers what Faraday’s actually saying. “You don’t believe in the Act?”

“I think it has a good idea at its ass, but I don’t think the practice of it is working,” says André. “Accountability is all well and good, but look at the threats we face.” He gestures at the wider area. “What would we have done any different, truly?”

“I guess,” replies Jumpstart. Could he -? He takes the plunge. “I believe in the Act and it’s early days, but The Senate, Vigil, they’re not wrong .”

“No?” Faraday’s voice has dropped, lower, huskier, making the accent stronger somehow, intimate as it surrounds them, like it’s pulling Jumpstart into a secret. The grey eyes pin him down, magnetic, the storm silver of the ocean before the maelstrom breaks..

“I…I… truly…Tribune…”

“I think our CSI has a little crush,” says Faraday, with a little tease in his tone, but it’s not lost that low intimacy. 

Jumpstart looks down, cheeks burning under his mask. “No, I just admire The Senate and what they’ve done, what they stand for. Not everything and not everything in the Act. I just don’t think we’ve anything to gain by arresting Tribune, or the Imperator. This time next year, when things are more settled, I might have changed my mind.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’ve met Tribune since the Act, right?” chances Jumpstart. 

“I might have met lots of people since the Act.”

“What if I gave you my phone number? If you see Tribune you could set up a meeting so I could speak to her?”

“Looking for a promotion if you bring her over to the Light?”

“What? No! Maybe? Just to talk!”

“I don’t think you’re her type. They’re very particular, The Senate.” Faraday fiddles with his phone. “Put your number in. My civilian name is André.”

***

It’s late when he gets back to his apartment. 

There’s a note on the table as he puts down his keys from Elena, telling him there’s Chinese from his favourite place in the fridge. He eats it cold, he’s so hungry, before a quick shower and then collapsing naked into bed. He just wants to sleep.

He can’t, though. He’s too wired and he doesn’t know what at. It’s not managing a balance between work and work, he did it through college and this isn’t any different. 

He turns and his dick scraping the sheets makes him hiss. Well, why not? It’s the only thing that’ll tamp down the adrenaline and let him sleep. He kicks back the sheets, calling up his favourite fantasy, wrapping his hand around his dick.

Elena’s on all fours, crouched over him, planting gentle kisses over his chest, going lower down his abs, down to where his treasure trail starts, but carefully avoids his tip. She’s wearing that cream lingerie set he saw her in once by accident that time, luminous against her dark skin. Her nipples are swollen against the lace as she teases him, 

She kisses her way back up, licking around the sweet spot on his obliques, hair trailing along, more sensation. He’s careful to keep his hands away from her hair, because you mess with a woman’s weave at your own risk. 

His dick’s swelling in his stroking hand, firm but slow.

“It’s the only time you go slow, eh, Jumpstart?”

It’s Elena’s lips, but the wrong voice. 

Josh tries to pull it back - Christ, has a Dreamwalker got into his head? - but he can’t as he looks back and it’s grey eyes in a tanned face, laser focused on him.

“I told you, Josh, I’m a soldier, I observe. We both live. We fuck like dogs in heat.”

Any one else saying those words would make him cringe, but in that accent, from those lips, it’s fucking sinful. 

Josh looks past the cropped hair, down where Elena’s soft curves would have been, replaced by sharp angles and hard muscle that flexes as he moves down Josh’s body, dropping his lips to his chest. “You might wish her to kiss you like this, but only another man knows what we really want.”

André licks down Josh’s breast bone, the speedster arching up to meet him. Those lips work their way across to a nipple, sucking on it, with just a little hint of teeth as he plays his tongue around it. 

His fingers find the other one, playing with the pressure, light and hard, swirling around the nub as it pebbles up. Josh makes a strangled sound, nothing like he’e ever made before, but this is nothing like he’s ever felt before and he’s afraid what this means for him.

His hand grips just a little tighter, a little faster, but he’s nowhere near, not yet, thank God. He’s not ready for this to end. 

André twists Josh’s nipple, just on the point of pressure to pain and his hips buck, in life and in fantasy. “Ah, so you like it a little rough? How rough, huh?”

He bites hard, deep into the meat of Josh’s pec and he yells, quickly stifling it into his pillow, lest Elena hear and come to see. “Stop, stop,” he gasps.

André’s lips are red and swollen, curving into a dangerous smile. “What would she say if she saw you like this? Stretched out on your bed, dick in hand - would she believe it’s her  you want stretched around you?”

He licks down further, punctuating each word with a sharp bite. “Or if she found us for real? You stretched around me? My hand on your dick, drawing you on? Hmmm? What would she say?”

Josh muffles his cries, pushing the pillow against his mouth. God, what if he’s got marks tomorrow, like stigmata? It could happen, how the fuck’s he going to…

A coil starts to tighten in his lower back.

There’s a jerk in his hips as his dick’s swallowed by a hot, wet mouth, teeth catching on his skin. It’s simultaneously like a regular blowjob and weird as fuck, just the idea that it’s a guy, but it’s not like men and women were different like that, a blowjob was a blowjob and his dick wouldn’t really care. It’s less what he’d want than what André wants to give and like in real life, André knows exactly what he’s doing.

He plays a while, still that roughness, the idea that if he wanted, he could do Josh violence. The calloused fingers playing with Josh’s tits have pulled triggers. There’s been the hilt of a knife against the palms that knead his balls. The knees pressed either side of his hips have crushed the breath from the enemy’s throat. André’s as much the weapon as the metal he’s pushed into others.

It’s hotter than the sun and Josh can’t believe the thoughts running through his mind.

André takes Josh from tip to root, not even a hint of a gag, cheeks hollowing as he sucks, moving slowly along, the differing sensations almost too much travelling along his shaft. His eyes meet Josh’s as his lips are stretched around him, slick in the light, storm silver eyes pools he could fall into and never stop.

André gets a little rougher, more teeth this time, a sharp catch under soft lips, tonguing the slit as his teeth hit the ridge of the head, a delicious scratch as he plays a little before sliding back down.

Josh’s digging his heels into the bed, thigh muscles flexing as his hips thrust into his hand, gripping tighter, his other hand fisted into his sheets, heart hammering nearly as loud as his ragged breath. He can’t hear anything else, not even the creak of the bed, just the broken sighs tearing from his throat.

The coil tightens snaps.

André spots the signs, pulls off, wraps his scarred hand over Josh’s as he pumps him through the orgasm as come spurts over his fingers, his stomach, his chest, painting hot splashes to match the heat searing through his nerves. His vision’s shorting out, going dark as his heart races like he’s a fucking…fucking…fuck knows, coherent thought is not in his wheelhouse right now.

It takes a good ten minutes before Josh gets his bearings back, cool now in the room, sticky with come and sweat. He wipes himself with the sheet, pulls himself up to sit for a minute, not sure what to make of the best fucking climax of his life. He doesn’t know what it says about him. He runs his hand through his hair, looking at himself in the mirror, heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t know how he’ll face Faraday next time they meet.

***

Josh is woken by his phone ringing, knocking off the night stand as he gropes for it. He feels far more tired than he usually does. 

“ ‘Lo?”

“Josh? C’est André. Tribune veut se rencontrer. Je serai là.”

The sheet’s slipped down to Josh’s hips and his torso is livid with bites.